


The Ghost in Red

by Indigo_Penstrokes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, there are ghosts, theres also a little bit of a reincarnation thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10309967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo_Penstrokes/pseuds/Indigo_Penstrokes
Summary: Grantaire has been living in an apartment that is supposedly haunted. Supposedly turns out to be true.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please bear with me. This is unbetaed so any mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy.

When Grantaire had moved into the so called haunted apartment above a quaint cafe he didn't think anything of it. All was normal for the first three weeks, then little things here and there happened. His paintbrushes would be all over the floor one morning and when he got back from school they would be all back in their proper locations. Or sometimes when he would have Eponine over his canvases, or anything else he had stacked up somewhere would fall to the floor in cacophonies louder than they should have produced.  
Today was rough. He learned he had to finish his exam painting by next week, as well as a portion of his portfolio needed to be examined. The liquor was going to be coming out early tonigh, he might as well not be alone. Pulling out his paint flecked phone Grantaire calls Eponine. She picks up on the second ring.  
"Hey Ep, do you wanna hang out later?" He lounges on the small leather sofa.  
Eponine's response is drowned out by the clatter of a can of brushes hitting the floor.  
"Hold on, something just happened I'll call you back." Stretching Grantaire realizes he's much to sober for this kind of shit so he detours to the small kitchen and grabs a beer. Taking a long draugh he walks back into his living room and spilled paintbrushes. Just as he picks up the fallen supplies his stack of good canvases falls over. That's it, he's had enough of this so called ghosts annoying bullshit recently.  
"What the hell do you want? You've been pulling this shit for two weeks, I'm done. Just show yourself you attention seeking nuisance!" If anyone is to hear him they'll think him totally mad for yelling at an empty flat.  
But it's not empty, standing in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window is the most gorgeous human Grantaire has ever seen.  
Dressed in early 1800's red vest and trousers, his golden hair hanging in loose waves around his face. His blue eyes full of a righteous fire Grantaire would hate to be on the receiving end of. The man has captured Grantaire's attention.  
"I was being a bit petty I suppose." His voice is a rich tenor.  
It's when he turns that Grantaire notes the scarlet stains on the front of his shirt under the crimson vest.  
They're the wound left by gunshots.  
"So you're the ghost of Musain." Grantaire is not as shocked as he thinks he should be. He's talking to a ghost for fucks sake.  
"Indeed I am, I was a leader of a rebellion before that and went by Enjolras." The fire dies from his eyes a bit. "The people were supposed to rise and take back their patria. We were supposed to see a better tomorrow."  
'The June Rebellion' Grantaire's brain supplies. 'a failed attempt at a coup by a group of college age boys in the early 1830's' God he needs something stronger than beer, if he can still remember facts from his history class. Needless to say he downs the rest of the bottle in his hands.  
"You look like one of them you know." The red clad ghost cocks his head to the side, sun gilding his already golden locks, blue eyes full of a sadness so profound it cuts Grantaire to the core.  
"Who?"  
Enjolras laughs, a thing without any humor.  
"He was many things, mostly a cynical drunk, but he was so much more than that. He was loyal, and fierce when he needed to be." Enjolras stops, tears shining in his eyes.  
"Didn't believe in much, but he told me," Enjolras stares out the window, and Grantaire's hands itch for his paints and brushes. "he told me I was the one thing he believed in."  
Grantaire is struck speechless, the man Enjolras described is himself, though he has no one to believe in.  
"What was his name?" It's a whisper, sliding past his lips before Grantaire can stop it.  
"Grantaire, his name was Grantaire." It's airy and he can hear the love in Enjolras' voice.  
Grantaire feels as though the spectre before him has punched him in the gut.  
"I believe, that by some form of fate I was put into this place, this in between, to find you and give you hope." He smiles a sad brilliant smile. "Grantaire, go find your own Apollo, go find friends who you would die for. I know he's out there. I know they're out there."  
A faraway look clouds Enjolras' sky blue gaze, a smile stretches his features. It's a look so pure and true Grantaire knows he's seeing the other side where his Grantaire is standing welcoming Enjolras home with open arms.  
"I promise I will." Grantaire whispers.  
And with a final sad smile Enjolras fades into whatever place awaits him and his love.

Two weeks later, Grantaire is pushing through the crush of students trying to get past the protest that is happening on campus when he sees a flash of gold and crimson holding a sign above the crowd. The crowd parts and he sees seven others around this man holding signs with the same vigor, but they lack the fiery passion he sees in the golden man's eyes.  
And Grantaire knows he's found his Enjolras.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this then hurray you made it through. Kudos to you. I hope it wasn't too terrible. Please leave me constructive comments I will love you if you do.


End file.
